


Sundays

by FidgetyWriter



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 22:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1202473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FidgetyWriter/pseuds/FidgetyWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little drabble inspired by Mary Lambert's "She Keeps Me Warm" on repeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sundays

_I’m not crying on Sundays, I’m not crying on Sundays_

Sara remembers biting back the tears at every lecture. 

“Procreation is your duty!”

“Men and women must marry and have children to ensure the continued vitality of our Vault.”

She remembers squirming next to Freddie Gomez during these lectures, thinking he’s the only guy her age she could tolerate the idea of marrying. But then she thinks of what that would require, and her head spins and her stomach rolls.

Amata is so soft and lithe seated next to her. Sara thinks her hands would fit perfectly against her best friend’s curves even as Brotch continues on about their duties to the Vault.

_I’m not crying on Sundays, I’m not crying on Sundays_

She remembers crying about it to her father late one night: remembers pleading with Jonas the next morning to marry her because she knows he wouldn’t dream of touching her sexually. She can go through the motions, she promises. She thinks she can even kiss him if it’s necessary.

But Jonas won’t even hear it, telling Sara she deserves to be with someone who makes her happy even though they both know this is impossible.

That night James passes her a shot of his favored brand of whiskey for the only time in her life, just to ease the pain a bit.

 

_Love is patient, love is kind_

But beyond the 10 ton steel door sealing the entrance to Vault 101 is a life Sara could never have imagined. The Wasteland is brutal. It steals her naiveté, her home, her father.

But it gives too: Dogmeat and Fawkes, a brotherhood of like-minded individuals to call a new family…

It gives her Sarah Lyons.

It gives her a woman who brings her shitty pre-packaged noodles in the middle of the night as measly consolation for James’ death when the other members of the Brotherhood still avoided looking at her. It gives a warm embrace: the warmest she has ever known, and Wasteland-weathered lips to kiss good morning on Sundays.

It gives her everything she has always wanted but never dreamed she could have.

_Love is patient, love is kind._


End file.
